A Past Worth Remembering
by Yaminoko-Jeichan
Summary: Sort of an AU taking place after the Pharaoh defeats Thief Bakura, but instead of having to kill Bakura to defeat him, they seal his ka. BakuraOC Rated for language and future violence.
1. Chapter 1

_Disclaimer: Don't own show._

_Summary: Sort of an AU taking place after the Pharaoh defeats Thief Bakura, but instead of having to kill Bakura to defeat him, they seal his ka. Starts off with Thief Bakura being brought in front of the Pharaoh to hear his punishment._

"Bring forth the prisoner." His voice boomed over the other voices in the room, and everyone fell silent as the guards brought a man in chains up to the throne.

Clothed in nothing but a cheap fabric that shielded his groin and backside from view, the prisoner sat on his knees—not from humble submission, but because his weakened body could do nothing else. The past week in the palace prison zapped his remaining strength and willpower so thus he couldn't hold up his head to sneer at the man on the throne. He so wanted to sneer and rage against the man, wanted to tear him limb from limb and hear him beg for mercy, but he hadn't the strength.

"Bakura." The man on the throne spoke, his voice the only sound in the entire room. "You've tried to take over and destroy my kingdom, and committed terrible other crimes as well: thievery, murder. But you failed, just as all evil men do." The man on the throne narrowed his reddish eyes as he stared at the prisoner unable to conceal his anger. "Your evil has threatened not only my life but the lives of my people—you cared nothing of the innocent you slaughtered. Thus, I shall not show you mercy, even if you plead, for you didn't listen to your victims' pleads."

"…." Bakura felt his body tense at hearing that voice, and he dared to move his head slightly in order to look at his accuser despite the pain it caused. _Do your worst, you bastard._ His thoughts screamed, but, though he wanted to, he was too weak to speak the words. Instead, he glared at the Pharaoh with his gleaming violet eyes, angry at his white blond hair for impeding his view.

"Bakura, you heartlessly committed these crimes, so thus I pass this punishment—execution."

An agreeing uproar broke out at the last word—everyone in the room sided with the Pharaoh's decision; they hated the man self-titled the 'king of thieves,' and desired to see his swift execution. However….

"You're to be executed, by decapitation, publicly for your heinous crimes tomorrow, when the sun reaches its highest point."

Hearing those words, Bakura felt a cold chill run up his spine, and he closed his weary eyes as though to block out reality. He didn't want to die—who would want that?—but he didn't want to submit or plead either. What he desired didn't matter thought—he had lost, lost the most crucial battle of his life, and was now at his enemy's mercy.

His limbs were numb and ravaged by his battle with the Pharaoh, and by the torture he endured for a week, so he could do nothing. Maybe if his ba wasn't so dangerously low he'd be able to move and speak in defiance, but he couldn't move—and, what's more, his ka no longer resided in his soul—that wretch Pharaoh and his Priests had sealed Diabound away in a realm of shadows, in a realm he couldn't hope to reach in his current state.

All he could do as the guards brought him to a holding cell was think, but thoughts never succeeded in changing things on their own. He needed Diabound back, he needed help from someone—but all of his so-called followers had abandoned him at the moment of his defeat.

Feeling the guards push him into his cell, Bakura opened his eyes and realized that the chains that had bound his hands were gone though the shackles on his feet remained. _Bogus, if I had the strength to move I could easily escape._

"Huh? A newbie?" Someone asked with a serene voice outside his cell, and he paused his thinking to listen to it.

"No, he's a transfer from the lower dungeons. The Pharaoh has just proclaimed his punishment." A guard's rough voice ruined his focus on the gentle one, and Bakura, disgusted, returned his attention to his thoughts.

Dressed in a plain white Egyptian robe, her red hair straight and shoulder length, the owner of the mysterious voice stared long at the imprisoned Bakura. Her sky blue eyes drunk in the prisoner's appearance as she half attentively listened to the guard—her eyes shining with pity and sadness.

"He'll be here only until midday tomorrow—he's to be publicly executed."

"Oh."

"Don't worry about feeding him; he doesn't need it where he's going." After that, the guard left, chuckling as he took sadistic pleasure in imagining the execution. After the guard closed the door and bolted it, the girl with red hair turned to look at the other jail cells—four of which were occupied.

Quietly she resumed her work, giving each prisoner a bowl of food and some water, unafraid of any of them as she greeted them by name.

"Could you give us more today? Madam Higure? I'm starved!" A prisoner in the farthest cell on the left hand side of the room asked as the woman gave him a bowl of food.

"I'm sorry, Mathuros, they haven't refilled the food storage for the dungeons yet—until it's refilled this is all that can be spared. Besides, we have an extra prisoner in this ward today."

"So what? You heard the guard—he's gettin' killed in a day, so's he doesn't need nothin'" The prisoner Mathuros said, chowing down his food quickly as though afraid it'd get taken away to feed the extra prisoner.

"Don't worry, Mathuros—food for the extra won't come out of your ration or any of the other prisoner's rations." She smiled and then walked to the front of the ward where the narrow hall opened up into a small room in which a wooden table and chair were.

On the wooden table sat a plate of food bigger than the prisoner's bowls, and a small tankard filled with clean, cool water.

Taking from the plate a pomegranate, she walked to the cell housing the newbie and knelt in front of it.

"You must be hungry; you can have this fruit if you like."

Upon hearing the serene voice speaking right outside his cell, Bakura looked up, no longer lost in thoughts, but not aware enough to realize he'd moved his head without feeling pain.

"Don't you want it?" Bakura heard the voice ask, but his eyes blurred when he tried to look at the owner's appearance—all he could see was the fruit held out in front of him.

Focused from hunger on the pomegranate, Bakura willed his body to move but his limbs remained by his sides, listless and weak. Oh, his stomach burned from hunger—he hadn't had anything to eat during the week he'd been in the lower dungeons—the torture center of the prison—and he wanted the fruit so badly he could almost taste it.

"Don't…oh." The voice gasped and the pomegranate disappeared from his view.

_Ah, so they're still going to torture me, eh? And they call me the evil one…._ Bakura growled in his thoughts, closing his eyes again so the sight of food wouldn't do him in.

However, within the next few moments he heard the cell door open and footsteps approach, swift and decisively. Then he felt something soft and sweet smelling brush against his lips, enticing his hunger.

Though tempted to take a bite of whatever touched his lips, he kept his lips tightly pursed, refusing to respond. His stomach growled and burned as he caught a whiff of the strong scent of the fruit—pomegranate and he fidgeted uncomfortably at the added discomfort.

"Are you not hungry?" The soft feminine voice asked, and he felt the fruit leave his lips.

Crazed by hunger and anger, Bakura lunged his head forward and sunk his teeth into the closest thing near him. Feeling the soft, white plum scented flesh give way to his teeth, Bakura opened his eyes to see what he'd bitten into.

A brilliant shade of bronze, Higure's hand remained clenched between his teeth, bleeding from the punctures of his incisors and, sneering, he lapped up the blood with his tongue.

Victory—he'd wounded one of his tormentors; it didn't matter that he'd be beaten, or tortured again for his action, he'd shown the beautiful wench that she couldn't torture him with impunity.

Audibly he chuckled and looked at her face, expecting to see a look of horror and disgust, but nothing, no look of pain of any king shone on her face or in her eyes. She wore a serene, blank look, as though bored by his actions; as though he was a child in her care and she was merely continuing to play a game she'd grown tired of.

"Are you done?" She asked, while the same question formed in her eyes. Such calm—he'd never been faced by someone so calm in his life, he'd never encountered someone who could look at him as though he was nothing but an insect—worth pity, but not respect.

He couldn't stand it, so he bit down harder, trying to entice a cry from those lips—but nothing. The woman didn't even flinch when his teeth cut her deeper, freeing more blood for him to taste; she only continued to stare into his violet eyes, unafraid and indifferent.

After a moment, the woman's eyes grew soft and her lips broke into a sad smile—Bakura could feel the aura of her emotion radiating from her body, but he couldn't figure what emotion.

He knew, however, that he'd been defeated, an instead of the woman flinching, he flinched when he felt her unblemished hand run through his knotted hair. His heart raced at the unexpected, foreign touch, and he shuddered involuntarily wanting to get away from something so unknown.

"Don't worry, I don't bite." The woman cooed, and then chuckled, while Bakura looked at the hand he still held in his mouth. Feeling foolish, he released his hold and backed against the wall, wondering what his punishment would be. Then he noticed for the first time that there were no guards in the room—only the woman, and the other prisoners in their cells.

"I won't hurt you, this isn't a torture ward." She said softly placing her hand on Bakura's cheek, smiling sadly when the thief shied away from the friendly touch. Sighing, she picked up the pomegranate from the cell floor and cleaned it with some water from the tankard. "Here, if you're hungry eat this, it'd be less noticeable than if I lost a finger or two." She chuckled at her joke and handed the pomegranate to the thief, holding it once again to his lips.

This time he bit into it without protest, his eyes closing as he felt the juice run down his parched throat. When he finished, he dared to look at the woman, his eyes asking a silent question, and, in response, the woman brought the tankard to his lips.

He felt his body strengthen as the pure liquid ran down his throat, revitalizing him—he'd been nearly as long without water as without food, and he wasted no drop of the precious fluid.

After every drop was gone, he closed his eyes, his stomach no longer hurting, and his head no longer pounding—finally relaxed enough to feel exhausted. Not weak—just tired-exhausted, as though he could fall asleep and never wake up. The thought relaxed him, to be able to finally escape to a realm of dreams, oblivious to pain or discomfort. If that was what death was like—he wouldn't mind it, it'd be the second best surcease he could achieve from his pain. First best being killing the Pharaoh and the Priests. But he guess he could settle for death—he could just leave it to the evil in the millennium items to seal the Pharaoh's fate. Justice would come one day—for his people, his family and himself.

"One day." Bakura mumbled as Higure draped a blanket-cloth over him picked up the empty tankard and walked out of the cell, making sure to relock it.

"What did you do to deserve such treatment?" Higure said softly before sitting down at the wooden table near the entrance of the ward.

_Please help:MediaPlay's closing and I don't know of any other place nearby where I can buy my Manga. I'd really be thankful if any of you readers could tell me of other places to buy Manga._


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter warning: there's some implied rape in this chapter, but only for a sentence or two. There's violence in the chapter as well, but nothing too detailed in my opinion. Also for you who know of Bakura's past, you probably figure out what the first part of this chapter is about.

Anyway, enjoy.Please review!

"_Seize them! Make sure not a single one escapes; we need ninety-nine for the ritual!" A loud arrogant voice yelled as hundreds of men stalked around, herding the villagers into a large group. Cries and angry shouts filled the dark, heavy air as each villager was beat and abused until he/she submitted to the soldiers. Children split from their families cried until a soldier knocked them unconscious and carried them to where they herded the others._

"_Mother, father, where…?" One young boy said, falling silent when he saw a soldier approach and then he ran for shelter into the nearest building—an old ransacked home that the soldiers had already vacated._

"_What are you looking for?"_

"_I thought I heard someone sneaking around here."  
_

"_We've already searched that hut; the houses in this section are already empty."_

"_But…."_

_The boy held his breath as he listened to the soldiers' conversation, scared to death that they would find him—especially since he didn't know what they would do if they found him._

_This is necessary to protect Egypt. For justice…for the Pharaoh. The pieces of the soldiers' conversation he'd over heard blurred in his thoughts—he couldn't understand how any of those reasons justified what the soldiers were doing to his people._

_Justice? Where was the justice in beating a child until he couldn't stand, until he collapsed? There wasn't, was there?_

_But that's what he saw those soldiers do—not only to the children but also to everyone who didn't comply with their orders. Why—why were they being so cruel? All right, there were some people among the villagers who'd done crimes deserving punishment—but why attack the children? The old and anyone else who was innocent? Why?_

"_I'm going to check."_

"…_." The boy bit his lip to keep from gasping in fear, sweat dripping down his skin. What did they want with him and his people? Couldn't they just let him and his family go?_

Oh, Ra, please, the only one in my family who ever committed a crime was my father but that was before I was born, before he became too ill._ He cried to the gods in his thoughts, pleading to them to spare his family from whatever fate awaited them at the soldiers' hands. _Mother only moved here the year I was born—she's not guilty of any crimes the others have done—please Ra, please. Oh, Ra, my sister's only a year old! She can't deserve whatever justice those soldiers are talking about! Please spare us!

"_Hoy! We've got our quota! Fall back!" Another soldier shouted, his voice carrying over the sound of others soldiers knocking down doors looking for villagers, and at his words all searching stopped._

_The boy held his breath until the soldiers' footsteps died away, then he breathed, tears of relief falling down his cheeks—the god's must have heard his prayers, he was safe!_

"_Thank you Ra." He muttered through his tears, his racing heart slowing in his chest. After calming down, he left the hut, expecting everything except the emptiness in which he found himself. No one was around—the streets of his village were empty, even the livestock owned by the village herdsmen were gone, confiscated by the soldiers. He was alone._

_Aimlessly he searched the streets for signs of life; he stumbled over the scattered ruins of carts, doors and tables in the streets—reminders of what had happened._

"_Where is everybody?" He whispered, and, as in answer to his question, the wind blew to his left, toward a door leading underground—a door with footprints in front of it—hundreds._

_Quickly he ran to the tunnel door and down the steps into a secret underground chamber. And there he got his answer—the soldiers stood guard over the captured villagers, keeping them still until they were led, one by one, to a giant pot of boiling gold._

_What…no! It can't, they can't seriously…." The boy thought, eyes widening when he saw a soldier force a villager into the giant pot, slicing him first with his spear. _

_A sickening feeling filled the boy's stomach as he watched—as he heard the screams of the villagers as they were killed—slaughtered like sheep to be placed in the vile concoction. He closed his eyes and covered his ears, but he could still picture what was happening. It stuck in his thoughts, plaguing him—and he felt himself retch—vomiting on the ground._

"_What was that?" The nearest soldier looked at where he was and the boy quickly ducked out of view, trembling, his skin drenched with cold sweat. "I heard…."_

"_Stop this! You fiends, how can you do this to us?" A woman's voice bellowed out above the screams—a voice familiar to the boy. "You inhuman…you foul…."_

"_Shut up!" The soldier nearest her yelled, hitting her across the face with his spear, forming a deep gash on her cheek that splattered blood._

_Mother!" The boy trembled, tears cascading down his cheeks, fear keeping his voice frozen._

"_Bitch." The soldier grabbed a bundle from the woman's arms, and the boy's heart burned when he realized it was a baby._

_Sister…._

"_Let's see what you'll say when I do this." The soldier growled, bringing the baby to the boiling pot, holding her by her leg over the concoction._

_No…._

"_NO! Please, not her! Spare her and take me!" The mother cried out, tears falling down her cheeks, mixing with the blood from her wound._

"_Your pleads are useless, we need all ninety nine of you." The soldier said, and then dropped the baby into the pot._

"_NO!"_

"NO!" Bakura awoke in a cold sweat, trembling from the nightmare until he realized he was in a dungeon cell with his legs chained together. Bringing his knees to his chest, and setting his hands on his knees, Bakura hung his head down, breathing deeply to slow his racing heart.

Somewhere in his consciousness he was aware of someone talking to him, but it was faint; but he felt the hand that touched his cheek.

Growling, he slapped the hand from his cheek and grabbed it, rising to his feet—hatred and fear boiling within him. He felt none of the fatigue he had before he fell asleep—it was as though his hatred pumped adrenaline through his every vein, powering every sinew so that his tiredness vanished.

"You should calm…." The person who he gripped the wrist of spoke, but he jerked her arm and squeezed it.

"Shut up, bitch." He snarled eyes narrowing as he glared at her—the wretched woman who had made a fool of him earlier. She still looked at him with pity, with eyes that looked down on him as though he was inferior. But he'll see to that.

"Release your hold."

"No…." He said and grabbed her other upper arm, holding it within iron tight grip, then he pulled her closer. What was with her always wanting to touch him? He hated being touched. Heh, the only women he'd encountered who tried to touch him always wanted one thing—and he'd be much obliged to give it to this vixen.

"Let…." The woman's words were cut off when Bakura brought his lips to her neck and turned into a gasp. Eyes gleaming, Bakura sucked a little on her neck, and then bit it, teasingly at first, then hard—hard enough to draw blood. "Stop."

Bakura snorted at the word and bit harder, his tongue lapping up the blood that flowed from the woman's wounds. Then he pulled her closer to him, to a point that you couldn't fit a piece of paper between them. 'Who's the one in control now, hey dearie? You thought I was the inferior one…heh, heh, I'll make you pay.' He laughed in his thoughts, loving the feeling of control.

Moving his jaw so that he could lick some of the blood that escaped from his lips and ran down the woman's shoulder, Bakura scratched his own tongue with his teeth. The pain didn't make him flinch, but the moment the wound on his tongue touched the woman's blood, memories not his flashed through his mind.

"_Please, spare her, take me!" A woman pleaded while a man in armor pushed her roughly to the ground, an evil gleam in his eyes. "Don't…harm her…please."_

"_You don't want me to hurt her? Then don't struggle. Heh." The man grinned, dropping his pants as he lunged at the woman, keeping his movements in time with her screams._

"_Mm…mm!" A muffled voice coming from the side of the man and woman struggled to shout—a little girl with terrified blue eyes, bound and gagged, trembled as she watched them._

_Before the man even finished, he stabbed the woman in the throat with a dagger, and blood gushed out of the wound, and bubbled foam-like out of the woman's mouth._

"_Foolish wench." The man said as he stood up, sneering when his eyes fell upon the bound girl who still stared at the dead woman. "Let's find out if you're as good as your mother. Heh."_

"_Nn…nn." The girl shivered and shook her head in terror as the man approached her._

"No!" Higure pushed the thief away from her, trembling as she stared wide eyed at him, her hand covering her mouth in shock and disgust.

Bakura gasped his breaths as he stared disbelievingly at the woman in front of him, his heart racing. Were those her memories? Was she the little girl who watched her mother get raped and murdered, before having the man turn on her? The thought sickened him—not merely that it'd happened, but because for the brief memory he'd been the girl, he'd seen the whole thing through the girl's point of view.

* * *

Unable to speak, Higure turned her head away from the thief, her heart racing, not because of her memory, but because of a different one not her own. A memory of a little boy hiding as soldiers captured his village, a little boy who watched helplessly as the same soldiers slaughtered his family—his parents, his sister. All seen through the boy's eyes—feeling his frustration and horror. 

"Oh Ra." She muttered, leaving the cell to hide in a corner out of anyone's view, trembling with horror herself.

* * *

Sliding to the floor, Bakura felt his strength leave again, his anger replaced by a different emotion—foreign to his heart. He didn't have the strength to tremble as he stared wide-eyed in front of him, his eyes focused on the stonewall but not really seeing it. 

_So that was her past. That's what happened to her._

* * *

S_o that's what he did, that's why he deserved his punishment—he lived. _Higure shuddered, a cold fury shining in her eyes—she'd recognized one of the people in the boy's memory—it was a man she trusted, whom she viewed almost as a father—Akhenaden. 


	3. Chapter 3

_Shivering in the corner of an empty room, a little girl with frightened blue eyes huddled with her knees against her chest. Pieces of torn rope and cloth lay at her feet, and a bloody knife was stuck in the wooden floor beside her. Her eyes stared ahead of her, at two bodies lying motionless on the floor: one a woman, and the other a man, both covered in blood._

_However, her attention flickered away from the bodies to a sitting figure to the left that glowed with a strange aura, and wore a thin blue dress. Silently the figure crawled up to the little girl and placed a pale, thin hand on her bronze cheek to wipe away the tears._

"_Um…un." The little girl whimpered as she looked up from the pale hand to the face of the figure, shocked to see a pale, gaunt face with sad blue eyes surrounded by lank red hair staring at her. Those eyes and that hair were similar to hers; it was like looking at the mirror image of herself, with pale skin instead of bronze._

'_You'll be all right, just sleep and you'll be better.' A silent voice said in her thoughts though she knew it came from the figure in front of her, and comforted, she fell asleep in its arms._

Higure opened her eyes and stared unfocused at the wall in front of her, her mind swimming with her memory of what happened after her mother's death. She didn't remember everything clearly, but she did remember most—the figure who comforted her had protected her from the man's wrath when he turned to do her like her mother.

Only five at the time, she didn't realize what the figure was, except she knew it wasn't human, for it appeared the moment the man tried to stab her and rebounded his attack. Afterwards a glazed look appeared in the man's eyes, and he crumbled to the floor, barely breathing but alive.

After she fell asleep she didn't know how much time passed before a man wearing a hooded robe, and a golden eye in place of his left. Akhenaden.

Akhenaden found her in that room, sleeping in the corner, hungry and alone, and took her to the Palace where she lived from that day on.

She trusted Akhenaden; he'd saved her and she never thought of him as less than infallible, but now, after seeing that memory of the thief, she didn't know what to believe.

But she knew what she had to do. Quickly she stood and left the room, her eyes gleaming with determination, while the rest of her face was expressionless.

"Akhenaden!" Higure called when she spotted the Priest in the halls, a few feet in front of her.

"Higure, what are you doing away from your post?" The Priest turned around, his eye widening at the sight of the redhead. "You should be guarding the prisoners."

"I need to speak with you now, Akhenaden." Higure ignored the Priest's protest, her eyes losing their gleam and becoming like stone—as expressionless as her face, and her hand fingered the necklace around her neck.

"I'm busy now, Higure, we can talk at some other time."

"Busy? What sort of work could you have this far in the dungeons?"

"Very important work, so go back to your post." Akhenaden said impatiently.

"Up until the moment I spoke to you, you were walking along leisurely—almost bored. So whatever work you have isn't that important, unless of course you're skipping work by hiding out here."

"Higure...you're not going to leave me alone, are you?"

"No, and don't say you'll promise to visit me later—the last time you said that was over a month ago, and this is the first time I've seen you since." Higure paused, waiting for Akhenaden to protest, but he made no move to speak. "Follow me, i don't want to be interrupted." She brought him to a room with a wooden, bolt-less door—the only one in the dungeons that didn't have a locking bolt.

"If this is about food for the prisoners..."

"It isn't, but if you wish to be kind, inform the Pharaoh that this room needs to be restocked the next time you see him." Higure said her blue eyes flitting sadly from one empty shelf to the next.

"I don't know why you make such a fuss over whether the prisoners are fed or not, it's not as though they deserve it." Akhenaden mumbled, low but not low enough to escape Higure's hearing.

"Most of the prisoners are serving limited jail time—and though you may disagree, if a prisoner's released undernourished and with no means to assume a just life, he'll either die or end up back in jail. Desperation is a leader of crime." Higure wiped her hand over one of the bare shelves, leaving it a different color than the other due to the dust she wiped off. "It's only every three months that this room needs to be refilled, the least decency you people could show is to follow protocol. It's been six months since this room was filled."

"Just feed the prisoners less." Akhenaden dismissed Higure's words with a wave of his hand and then turned to leave, tired of the conversation.

"Have you forgotten that I get my rations from this room as well?"

The Priest froze at her words and turned around warily—he had forgotten—and eyed Higure carefully. His eyes widened when he noticed the thinness of her face and neck; though her arms were covered by the robe she wore, he noticed how poorly it fitted her, hanging down in places where it used to cling like skin.

"I...I'll make sure to inform the Pharaoh as soon as possible." Akhenaden's voice shook, and he couldn't look anymore at the woman, so thin and malnourished. Even her hair hung limp compared to how lush and full it'd been.

"Thank you."

"So what else do you want to talk about?"

"There was a new prisoner added to my ward today from the lower dungeons."

"New prisoner? What about...?" Akhenaden began but his voice trailed off when the conscious thought _there was only one prisoner moved from the lower dungeons today_ flashed through his mind, and his eye widened. "You mean that Bakura was added to your ward! Your...ah! Get back to your post now, Higure."

"Akhenaden."

The Priest grabbed her roughly by the arm, and pulled her toward the door, fear in his eye as he realized that the only guard to the ward that housed the tomb robber was standing next to him instead of at her post.

"Ah! Akhenaden."

Feet still chained, Bakura stumbled out of his cell—in her haste the woman forgot to lock it back up, and now the tomb robber used that fact to his advantage.

While staying in this ward wasn't so bad, Bakura didn't want to hang around for his execution—he wasn't that crazy.

Making it clumsily to the small room with the table and chair, he took a deep breath, taking in the aroma of leftovers on the plate on the table.

"Best not let it go to waste." He chuckled and sat down, eating the food hurriedly—he even ate the fruit seeds. That's when he saw a sharp knife lying next to the empty tankard. "My luck just keeps getting better and better." He said, picked up the knife and used its pointed blade to pick the lock of the shackles on his legs.

Back at the food storage, Akhenaden glanced back at Higure at the sound of her gasp, surprised to see the wound on her neck.

"What happened to you, Higure? That wound...did something bite you?"

"It's nothing." Higure muttered and pulled the cloth of her robe sleeve up to cover it; however, that caused the wound on her hand to be uncovered—a wound Akhenaden quickly noticed.

"Your hand...what...? Higure."

"It's nothing."

Holding the knife in his left hand Bakura snuck around the halls of the dungeons, avoiding the guards as much as possible—he'd love to kill them, but that would make the others suspicious and he didn't want to be found just yet. Besides, by sneaking around he could evaluate the toll the torturing of the lower dungeons placed on his body and skills.

Thus, he now quietly snuck around the dungeons, trying to figure what was the quickest and easiest way to escape. He passed by a shut but unbolted door uninterestedly, and would've kept walking if a familiar scent hadn't crossed his path:

"Peach blossom." He whispered and closed his eyes, imagining the red hair and bronze skin of Higure, the first person he met since his mother that used that specific scent of perfume, and the urge to seek out Higure flamed within him. However, before he could move to open the door himself, it flew open and the woman, Higure, stepped out, but not by herself.

"Higure, where did you get these wounds from?" Akhenaden demanded, grabbing for Higure's sleeve when she managed to brush off his grip on her arm.

"I'm not saying. It's none of your business anyway."

"Higure, if someone attacked you then as your guardian it is my business. And if that someone was a prisoner it's the business of the Royal Court as well."

Higure opened her mouth to reply, but her eyes flicked in Bakura's direction and froze, as did her voice.

The thief could see Higure's eyes glaze in though, trying to figure out if she'd shut his cell door, and Bakura knew he needed to strike in order not to be caught. But he stood there frozen himself. The scent of peach blossom adultered by the scent of blood—an exotic mixture he smelled only once before—filled his nose, and he shuddered.

It was only a flash, but the memory of that day filled his thoughts—the memory of his mother, and her peach blossom perfume, and the scent of blood; the stench of blood and flesh boiling in the mixture of gold, made worse by the metallic smell, filled his nose ever since that day, but for the moment his memory made it worse.

His hand shook as he forced his thoughts on the present, and forced his eyes to look at the woman standing before him—he had to kill her, had to strike, but, but...

Her perfume filled the air, and her eyes and the shape of her face—Ra, they were similar to his mother's! His pulse quickening, he forced his eyes from her face, trying to block out his thoughts—and his gaze fell to the necklace hanging around her neck.

A thin braided string, black, the necklace didn't seem valuable but Bakura's heart quickened as he traced the string with his eyes—drawing in his breath when he saw the pendant attached to it. A red crystal in the shape of an angular teardrop, the pendant was hardly bigger than a real tear, but it consumed Bakura's thoughts. That necklace—that necklace was the same as his mother's—the very same!

"H..."

"Higure, what are you staring at? What is it?" Akhenaden asked, growing suspicious over Higure taking so long, though it'd been only a minute or two, and walked past her to peer over her shoulder—the door had opened outward and blocked Bakura from Akhenaden's view.

"YOU!" Akhenaden gasped at the sight of the thief, and pushed Higure out of the way, struggling to hide his fear with his anger.

His consciousness of the past and present already blurring into one, Bakura snapped when he saw Akhenaden push Higure out of the way, for in his warped sense of reality, he saw her as his mother, and his rage surged through him. He lunged at the priest with the knife.


	4. Chapter 4

_Sorry about not updating for a while. Anyway, if you readers are curious, Higure's Ka is based on a real Yu-Gi-Oh card--my favorite one. Try to guess which one and write it in your reviews. Well, on with the story._

Images of his memory of Kul Elna, and the present in the dungeon halls blurred through Bakura's thoughts, and in need of stability he focused on the one constant in both images—Akhenaden. That Priest bridged the gap between past and present, and Bakura felt his insides clench in anger—the man before him had overseen the slaughter of his people, of his family.

He lunged at Akhenaden, the knife gripped tightly in his hand, and rammed the blade into the Priest's flesh, soaking the blade and his hand with blood. A deep growl escaped from his lips, but a strange childlike tone adulterated it—as though Bakura's confusion over time affected not just his thoughts, but also his voice.

"A…." Akhenaden choked on the blood rising to his mouth, but managed to push Bakura away from him so that the knife no longer remained in his wound. Weak, the Priest fell back onto the floor, gasping for air as the blood filled his mouth, blocking his throat and choking him.

"Uh…." Higure sat up and clutched her head—she'd fallen unconscious when Akhenaden pushed her—unaware of what had happened. When her eyes focused on Akhenaden lying on the floor wounded, she paled and opened her mouth to scream but no sound came out. A movement to her left distracted her, and she flicked her eyes toward it, her body seized up when she saw Bakura holding the bloody knife in his hand.

_Oh, Ra, is he going to kill me now?_ She asked silently, looking from the knife to Bakura's eyes, then to Akhenaden, and backto the knife. Her throat tightening she focused her jumbled thoughts—she had to summon her Ka, that was the only way. And she was going to too, until her eyes strayed to Bakura's; there was an odd gleam in them, as though struggling to focus and his face wore a look of confusion.

Higure felt her terror leave, replaced by anxiety and curiosity, flooding up only when Bakura's knife hand moved.

Bakura brought the hand to Higure's cheek, and stroked it with the back of his hand, and then made a motion as though wiping up a tear from her cheek. But Higure wasn't crying. She looked again at the confused expression on Bakura's face, at the blank look in his eyes, and slowly realized what it was.

"Are…are you all right?" She asked, keeping her voice gentle, for she hoped not to shock him out of his trancelike, confused state.

"Mo…ther?"

"AH!" She gasped, and was about to respond in hope to keep him there, but the moment after her gasp Bakura snapped out of his confusion and glared at her.

When his eyes fell on Akhenaden, Bakura furrowed his eyebrows in thought, then noticed the knife in his hand. He struggled to think, and gasped in realization—then the next moment he fled after seeing someone running down the hall toward them.

* * *

"What!" The Pharaoh glared at the person in front of him, indignation in his eyes.

"There's been an attack, Priest Akhenaden was wounded." A man with blue eyes and brown hair said, kneeling in front of the Pharaoh. "He's presently receiving treatment from the palace healers, but it doesn't look too hopeful."

"Do you have any idea who attacked him?"

"I have suspicions only, but nothing concrete. Shada and Isis are currently searching the dungeons for the attacker, and the guards are doing a headcount of the prisoners just in case."

"Let's hope none of them escaped." The Pharaoh said, which the man, Seto, interrupted as meaning 'Let's hope Bakura didn't escape.'

* * *

Back in the dungeons, away from any of the searching guards, Bakura snuck around the holding rooms in the lower dungeons when he made it to a holding room with only one prisoner in it, he used the knife to open the door.

"Huh? What?" The prisoner mumbled shuddering at the sound of the door opening. "Not again…."

"I see you're not up for another round of torture."

"Bakura!" The man gasped, gaping at the sight of the man he'd spent the last week in the same cell with.

"I see you haven't forgotten me."

"What are you doing here? The guards took you…."

"I need a favor from you."

"What kind?"

"The kind where you'll die if you complete it." Bakura said truthfully, not from sincerity or goodness, but because he knew it would interest the man the most—after spending a week with a person in one room you learn things about them and the one thing Bakura learned was that the man was suicidal.

"Really?"

"Yes…it's a necessity. You'll enjoy it though, being free from this hell—though of course you could just escape it you wish—as long as you tell no one about this moment, I have no problem."

"Will I be able to do it myself?" The man asked, his eyes on the knife.

"Yes, that's what this knife's fore…but you can't do anything until I'm in the right spot."

"Fine, just tell me what to do."

Five to Ten minutes later:

Bakura stepped through the door of the cell, and then turned around facing the prisoner he freed from the lower dungeons.

"Here." Bakura held out the knife and a key to the man. "Take these, lock me inside and then put the key back with the others; after that go act up where the guards can see you. After they see you, you can use that knife on yourself."

"Could I take one of them down with me?"

"Sure, but stick with the guards—if you get caught by the Priests, then you may not have the chance to kill yourself." Bakura said then turned toward the cell wall before flitting his attention back to the man. "I almost forgot—those leg shackles, give them to me!"

"Oh." The man hurried to grab what Bakura pointed to, and rushed back to the cell, handing them to the thief.

"If I didn't remember these, my plan would be ruined." Bakura chuckled and placed the shackles back on his legs, and sat against the cell wall.

"Um…I…why are you putting yourself back in prison? You're going to be executed, aren't you?"

"Simple, I don't have a clear path of escape yet, I need more time and opportunity—and the only way I'll get that it if they think I haven't escaped."

"I…couldn't you join me?"

"…I don't want to die yet but if I did I'd join you."

"Really?"

"Yes." Bakura half smiled. _Of course not, idiot, that's the coward's way out, suicide._

After that the man locked Bakura in the cell and left, leaving the room in silence as Bakura noticed the blanket on the floor beside him.

_Shit, how will I…._ He cursed in his thoughts, trying to figure out what to do to get rid of the blanket.

"Put it on you." One of the other prisoners spoke, and Bakura jolted up at the sound.

"What?"

"Miss Higure's known for being kind to prisoners in this ward, and she already put that blanket on you before, so put it back on and act like you never moved."

"Why are you helping me?"

"I'm not; it's just Miss Higure will get in trouble if they found out a prisoner of hers escaped, if it wasn't for her sake, I'd tell the guards exactly what happened."

"You'd rat on a fellow prisoner?" Bakura narrowed his eyes and draped the blanket over his shoulders.

"Not usually, but if that prisoner happened to hurt Miss Higure…I'd lie to see him hanged."

"…."Bakura chuckled nervously in response, not knowing how else to respond, seeing as he needed the other prisoner's cooperation for his plan to work.

It was then that he realized his hand was still covered with Akhenaden's blood, and the only thing he could wipe it off on was the blanket—but how would the blood be explained?

"Urr…." _I'm screwed, they'll know, they'll…._ "AH! Or course." He brought his hand up to his mouth and bit down until the skin broke and blood seeped out. Chuckling, he moved his mouth to his wrist and bit there, making sure to miss the vital artery, but making sure that there'd be enough blood.

"Heh." He was about to break out in insane laughter, but the sound of the ward's door opening stopped him, and he fell into acting weak and unconscious, still biting his hand.

"This is the last ward in this hall, do a head count, there should be five." A raspy-voiced guard said to another guard who walked to the end of the room, counting each prisoner.

"There's five here."

"Really?" The raspy-voiced guard stepped in and peered in the cells himself, staring incredulously at the cell that housed Bakura. "Curious…very curious."

"Huh? What?"

"Priest Seto felt certain that the culprit would be an escaped prisoner from this ward, but…."

"They're all here and accounted for."

Just then the door opened again and Priest Seto strode up the raspy—voiced man, his mouth opening to speak when his eyes flitted to the cell to his left.

"What the…?" He gaped at the sight of the thief sitting in the cell listless as though unaware of anyone else's presense.

"It seems the culprit's not from this ward."

"Preposterous!" Seto growled, his eyes narrowing. "He had to have been the one." He stepped up to the cell and pulled on the door, frowning when he realized it was locked.

"Locked from the outside, with the keys on the opposite side of the room."

"Urr…" Seto stalked to the shelf with the keys, and picked up the one corresponding to Bakura's cell. "It had to have been him, and I'll prove it." He growled and unlocked the cell door, stepped right up to Bakura, and kicked him.

"Seto! What are you doing?"

"Shut up." He dismissed the new voice and pulled Bakura's arm, trying to force him to his feet.

However the next moment he felt a firm hand push him to the side, and saw a glowing figure between him and Bakura.

"What…ah, Higure!" He stepped back and turned his eyes to the doorway where the redhead stood with her face expressionless, and an odd look in her eyes. "Call off your Ka."

"What gives you the right to manhandle the prisoners I'm in charge of?"

"This is the prisoner who attacked Akhenaden, I know it!"

"Ah, you're blaming that on a prisoner who can't even stand?" Higure scoffed, her eyes avoiding looking at Bakura. "Where's the logic of it? Would someone who escaped really return to his cell? Especially if he's to be executed?"

"Ah…I…hn." Seto pursed his lips and glared at Bakura who lay on the floor listlessly. "…ah, how do you explain the blood on his hand, and that blanket?"

"I give each prisoner of this ward a blanket, and this one was no exception."

"You opened his cell! You…."

"You act like I'm the one standing there with his cell door wide opened, without paying attention on him."

"Ah." Seto turned red and walked out of the cell, relocking it. "Okay, but what about the blood?"

"Hm." Higure walked up to the cell and peered at Bakura's hand, noticing the teeth marks only because she could still see blood seeping out. "He bit himself. You can see the punctures if you look closely."

"What!" Seto stared at Bakura's hand, snarling when he noticed the wound. "What person would do such a crazy thing?"

"…I've seen other transfers from the lower dungeons do crazier things. One of them tried to peel his own skin off with his nails, when he was fully awake. And that's just the tip of what transfers do, of how the lower dungeons affect prisoners. I'd gladly tell you if you want to stay and chat."

"Hh…no, I need to report back to the Pharaoh." Seto turned toward the door, but had to walk past Higure who said:

"Though the majority of them scream for their mothers' and death, all night long, whether asleep or awake; and…."

Seto left the room quickly, blocking out all else of what Higure said about the lower dungeons and what it did to people.


	5. Chapter 5

The moment Seto and the two guards left the room and bolted the door, Higure returned her gaze to Bakura, indignation shining in her eyes.

"You have some nerve. I could've just told them the truth." Higure said coldly, sitting on her knees in front of Bakura's cell. "What if I told them it'd been you before they searched the cells? No ruse would've saved you."

"Why didn't you?" Bakura asked, sitting up and glaring at Higure with his vibrant violet eyes, his lips blood red from biting himself.

"You would've been sent back to the lower dungeons." Higure replied emotionlessly, though Bakura noticed an odd gleam of contempt glowing in her eyes at the words 'lower dungeons.' Then he recalled what she'd been saying to Seto about the torture dungeons, remembered the tone she used.

"You hate the lower dungeons. Do you just disaggree with torture? Or have you experienced it?" He asked sneering, his eyes flitting every now and then toward the ward door in case it opened.

"I spent three months as a guard there."

"Oh." Bakura brought his eyes back to Higure. "You don't seem like the type who'd..."

"I didn't participate in the torturing, I only made sure the prisoners didn't escape. And I would've still been there if I hadn't..." Here she clutched her left wrist with her right hand, shuddering slightly and standing up.

Bakura's eyes widened as he realized what she meant, and he thought of the week he'd spent in the lower dungeons. He never thought of suicide for escape, and he'd been tortured. Though he had the memory of Kul Elna--its horror blocked out the pain and horror of the lower dungeon's torture.

"Why did you get assigned a lower dungeon post?" He asked, surprised by how his voice shook--why did he feel disgusted picturing the woman in the lower dungeons? Why did he feel for the woman at all?

"Did you see the Ka I summoned to stop Seto from attacking you?"

"Somewhat."

"They haven't found another Ka that could escape its detection nor get passed it." Higure knelt back down in front of Bakura's cell.

"No way." Bakura gaped at her. "You can't possibly have a Ka that strong."

"Oh, can't I? This coming from the guy I heard had a Ka that rivaled the gods?"

"I'm different. I'm strong and deserving, you're..."

"It has no relevance if you're strong or deserving. You got your Ka because of that one event in your life." Higure said her eyes intently staring at Bakura, who guessed quickly what event she was referring to.

"You saw my memory?"

"As you saw mine."

"Heh, you pity me. You pity me because of what happened in that memory. That's why you didn't tell them I escaped." Bakura said, narrowing his eyes, anger boiling up inside him. "I hate pity."

"I may pity yuo, but that wasn't the reason I didn't tell. You weren't completely aware when you stabbed Akhenaden."

"Hn. And how do you know if I was or not? I'm never unaware or taken off guard." He snorted, and brought his hand up to lick the blood from his wound, slightly hoping to disgust Higure.

"You called me mother."

"What!" Bakura glared daggers at Higure, but his voice expressed the shock he felt. "I would never..."

"You did. I guess I remind you of her in some way."

"No, I...I don't even remember her."

"Quit lying. You remember her clearly in that one memory if not in any others, which I'm sure you do have others."

"Even if I do, it's none of your business."

"You're right, it's not."

Elsewhere:

Seto stormed through the halls of the palace, eyes narrowed, lips a scrowl; he knew the attacker had to have been Bakura, but he had no proof. Just a few minutes before he'd learned Shada and Isis had caught an escaped prisoner who admitted to the attack, but Seto was sure it was a setup--some plot the wretched tombrobber dreamt up.

Everyone else just sighed in relief when the news of finding the escaped prisoner reached them--relieved that it hadn't been Bakura who escaped.

Though, Seto was sure, the Pharaoh had his own doubts about Bakura's innocence in this scheme, but the Pharaoh wouldn't voice anything when proof pointed to someone else. That angered Seto--if he had his way the tombrobber would be executed right away, without delay.

He'd also have that redheaded bitch stript of her post for allowing Bakura the opportunity of escape, and, though he hoped it wasn't true, for going along with the tombrobber's scheme. Already he thought about the scheme, and realized that if he was right, then Higure had to know the truth--yet she still protected the thief; She was a traitor and couldn't be trusted.

"If she's truly..." Seto muttered, making sure he was alone before continuing to voice his thought. "If she's truly joined the tombrobber's side, then...then it won't be long before she helps him escape--or commutes his sentence to something less harsh." He narrowed his eyes, and clenched his hand tighter around the Millennium Rod--he'd seen her convince the Pharaoh before to lift the harsh penalties of prisoners in favor of lesser punishments; it was doubtful, though, that she'd convince the Pharaoh in Bakura's case, but she'd done near enough the impossible before that Seto worried she might succeed. "I won't let that happen, even if Bakura didn't have anything to do with Akhenaden, he still needs to be destroyed--the safety of Egypt depends on it."


End file.
